Unmarked Files
by SereneQuill
Summary: The grieving process sometimes isn't noticed easily. Fargo uncovers a secret in some unmarked files that changes his perspective radically. Spoilers for all of season 3 each part marked for specific spoilers , slash- Jack/Nathan, Jack/Fargo.
1. Grief Acknowledged

Title: Unmarked Files: Part One- Grief Acknowledged

Pairing: Jack/Nathan, implied Jack/Fargo

Rating: T, for implied sexual content

Word Count: 1600

Disclaimer: If I owned them, THAT would NOT have happened!

Warnings: slash, canon character death, angst, spoilers through episode 305, a missing scene set pre-305. Written for the eurekatag challenge on livejournal.

Summary: Fargo finds something surprising when he sorts through his mentor's office.

* * *

Fargo had chased off anyone and everyone who had tried to come help pack up Stark's office and home. He knew it was fiercely irrational to be so loyal to a man who was dead and gone, but he had no qualms about chasing off the GD goons and insisting on doing it himself. He owed the man at least that much.

He rubbed his too tired eyes, adjusted his glasses, and focused again on the stack of files in front of him. He opened one marked "MAP-G Multiverse Project", reviewed the schematics, drawn in Stark's careful hand, and added the file to the box of projects for Henry to sort through before handing over to GD. Some of his mentor's work was simply too dangerous to turn over to someone as untrustworthy as Thorne, which probably explained why Stark had taken to storing it at home.

Fargo flipped through a rather innocuous file of work related to the dream spectrometer and the improvements Stark had made that allowed direct dream sharing. Fargo set it in his own bag, planning to turn it over to Sueños, whose job was one of those potentially on the chopping block. Knowing that one of his best friends was working on a serious crush on the dream scientist, Fargo decided that really, Stark wouldn't have minded Fargo's decision to lend a helping hand in thwarting Thorne. It was almost an homage, after all.

Half an hour later, the stack was almost sorted, just a handful of files left, and Fargo sleepily contemplated heading home for the night and restarting in the morning. "One more," he murmured to himself, frowning as he saw that the tab of the file was unmarked.

He opened it, pulling out a pile of odd little scraps of paper, with hurried notes scribbled on them. "Half smile to right, eyes squint embarrassed." Fargo read, his forehead crinkling in confusion.

He pulled out another note, this time on a torn piece of calendar from Stark's planner. "Both hands in pockets worried." He rifled through some more, producing a post it that read, "stalling by rubbing back of neck, time to think".

"Huh," Fargo mused, shrugging. "Sheriff Carter does that."

He found another note, on a scrap of napkin, which observed, "Huff of air, like laughter, not actual laugh strikeimpatience/strike not amused. Pretends to be."

Fargo continued to rifle through the observations, quicker now, suddenly certain they related to the little tells that revealed Carter's mood. Why had his mentor spent so much effort cataloguing the Sheriff's expressions? He ran out of scraps and sighed, setting them back into the file. The next file, likewise, was unmarked. He opened it, curiosity reviving his energy.

The first page was a simple line sketch, basic and clearly done from memory, of Sheriff Carter. It was dated a few days after the death of Callister. The lines resembled an architectural plan more than an actual drawing, but the set of the Sheriff's frown was clearly recognizable. The second sheet was another drawing, the lines a little more rounded, trying to soften the years of scientific precision into something art-like, but was harder to recognize as Carter. As Fargo flipped through the sheets, the drawings improved slightly in technique, but remained essentially the same, building on the original image.

Suddenly a new image appeared. It was softer, the subject in the drawing sleeping, a soft crescent of eyelashes over cheekbones, relaxed lips, and messy hair falling over the sheriff's forehead. The artwork had improved significantly, and the drawing captured a very gentle looking Jack Carter. The date was scrawled in the corner, revealing it to be sometime during the Sheriff's recovery after the VR therapy device had nearly scrambled his brains. Working from a subject clearly had helped Stark's ability to create art, Fargo decided, flipping through a few reproductions of the sleeping man, a few starting to add long muscular lines of the chest and abs of the other man starting around the date of last year's science fair.

Fargo felt his face heat at one of the images, dated the day of the chemical spill before the dream sharing began. Stark had clearly been guessing, speculating and compiling based on what he'd seen, but the intent behind the Jack Carter drawn nude and sprawled across the bed was pretty clear. A few variations of this followed, and like all of Stark's earlier drawings, they improved as he went. A sudden leap in talent, rivaling the first leap to the sleeping Carter followed around the time of the invisibility catastrophe, but the image couldn't have been drawn from a live subject, Fargo told himself. The loose limbed, sprawling image of the sheriff sleeping on the bed he recognized from the next room, a sheet tangled around one leg, a hand curled toward the empty half of the bed, and again, a nude Jack Carter. Everything about the image screamed a sated, satisfied sheriff.

Fargo swallowed, shifting a little uncomfortably at the image. He hadn't ever really thought of the sheriff as a sexual man, but now it was all he could see. He turned the page quickly, flipping past the variations on the post-coital images. There was no artwork after them, just the back of the folder.

The final file was also unmarked, but the envelope had the name "Jack" written across it in a large scrawling hand he recognized as Stark's. He hesitated, but the flap was unsealed, and there was only a single sheet of stationary contained within.

Fargo unfolded the note, the contents short but changing his opinion about what exactly had passed between the sheriff and Stark. He looked back at the images, seeing a patient, careful hand and the gentle, open ease on the sheriff's face in the drawings. The long limbed sprawl he now accepted was clearly drawn from the subject directly.

He ran a finger over the closing salutation, wondering if the scientist had ever swallowed his pride enough to use that word with the sheriff and what had lead to the events of Stark asking Allison to marry him instead of Carter. The soft sadness that he'd so often seen Carter shove aside in order to comfort Allison or even Fargo himself rose unwelcome in the young man's mind.

He took the images and slowly studied them again, refocusing his eyes to see through the eyes of Nathan Stark, and he felt his heart breaking a little for the stoic sheriff who had no one who knew what he was going through, no one to lean on. He pulled out a large envelope, and slid all three unmarked files inside. He turned off the lights and carefully locked the doors behind him, sliding into his smart car.

The little digital clock warned him how late it was, but Fargo bit back his concerns and drove straight to the bunker. He hesitated though, when he hovered at the door, finger mid air next to the doorbell. He looked down at the envelope in his other hand, trying to stiffen his resolve, when the door slid open for him.

"Fargo," Carter nodded at him, looking expectant.

"I…" Fargo started, and something must have shown on his face, because Carter stepped aside ever so slightly, gesturing Fargo inside. "You know I've been going through Dr. Stark's stuff, right?"

"Yeah," Carter replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Are you okay, Fargo?"

"Um, I think I should be asking you that," Fargo said quickly, thrusting the envelope at the sheriff. "I'm sorry… I didn't realize… he…" Fargo trailed off as Carter opened one of the files, revealing the sketches.

"You went through these?" Carter asked, his voice a little odd. His fingers trembled a little when the images of the sleeping, nude man appeared briefly, before he slammed the file closed.

"I didn't know," Fargo said, feeling lame as he spoke.

"I suppose I might be asking too much to ask you to keep it to yourself?" Carter asked, folding his arms, the frown failing given the pain in the too blue eyes.

"I won't tell anyone," Fargo promised quickly. "I promise."

Carter looked at him, evaluating. "There's a letter from him in there too," Fargo told him, adjusting his glasses to cover his nervousness. "I'm not sure he ever meant for you to see it, but since he's gone…"

"Yeah," Carter breathed, and Fargo felt his own breathing catch as he realized the depth of the hurt the other man was experiencing.

He started to turn away as Carter reopened the file, looking at the first crude sketch and fingering the date in wonder. "Did he ever tell you?" Fargo blurted out, a little desperate. "How he felt?"

"He never had to," Carter muttered, and Fargo gave into impulse, wrapping his arms around the sheriff and hugging him while he pulled himself back together, trying to convey how well he understood the sentiment.

Carter finally pulled away from the embrace, a false smile in place. "I'll be fine," Carter said, seeing the look Fargo gave him. He nodded, sighing, and turning and making it to the door this time. He wasn't sure what steeled his nerves just then, but he liked to believe it was Dr. Stark who prompted him to turn back.

"Jack?" he asked softly, and the other man looked up, waiting for him to continue. "I know I'm not him, but…I would like…"

"It's going to take me a little time," Carter said roughly, and Fargo nodded, understanding. "But… thanks, Douglas," he said, and Fargo felt something uncurl inside him at the sound of his own name. He nodded to Carter, before heading out. Behind him, Carter unfolded the letter, his composure sliding away as he read the words.


	2. Denial

Title: Unmarked Files: Part 2—Denial

Pairing: Jack/Nathan, Jack/Fargo

Rating: T, for implied sexual content

Word Count: 1200

Disclaimer: If I owned them, THAT would NOT have happened!

Warnings: slash, canon character death, angst, spoilers through episode 306, missing scene from 306. Written for the eurekatag challenge on livejournal.

* * *

Jack was resting after Henry had administered the antidote, being told to stay put and rest for another hour. Zoë was being checked out, so as soon as he had a green light, he'd go check on her. He wasn't sure why he needed to rest, but when Henry had started explaining, his head had started aching for totally different reasons. Lexi had been by, as had Allison, Jo, and Zoë, and now, finally, he had a moment to himself. He let his mind drift a little, and as was inevitable, Jack drifted into the same daydream space he always seemed to end up in for the past month.

He was back in Nathan's room, sprawled across the bed, sheet around his waist, while Nathan sketched him, careless and unconcerned about his own nudity. He had actually lived this moment, the one sketch Jack had been allowed to keep, but now Jack changed the conversation, imagined telling Nathan what he would if they could be together that way again.

"_He thought he needed to impress her," Jack related to Nathan, leaning back a little and letting the sheet slide teasingly low._

"_Your sister didn't strike me as the damsel in distress type," Nathan's deep voice rumbled through Jack deliciously._

"_I never would have pegged her for it either," Jack admitted with a sigh. "She's always been the lady knight in my mind. But I think being pregnant, alone…" he trailed off, shrugging. _

"_She's got something better than a superhero," Nathan remarked dryly, his eyes flicking between Jack and the sketch. _

"_Thanks," Jack said, touched._

"_She was close with Grandma Lil, right? Good to have her reincarnation to support her," Nathan continued, a smirk tugging his lips attractively, and Jack pulled one of the pillows off the bed and tossed it at the other man._

"_Thanks," Jack repeated, this time heavy on the sarcasm. He huffed and dropped flat on the bed, groaning, "You wouldn't start disasters to impress me, right?"_

"_I don't need to impress you," Nathan replied, and Jack could hear him rolling his eyes. A moment later, Nathan's body eased over his, the older man dropping a swift kiss on his lips. "But if I did, I know the way to win you over," he remarked, sliding a hand teasingly down Jack's chest._

"_Sure you do," Jack remarked dryly, and Nathan leaned up, murmuring into his ear in a low growl._

"_I'd never start a disaster. You get hot when there's a lack of disasters."_

"Sheriff Carter?"

Jack reluctantly opened his eyes, leaving his fantasy behind and looking up at Fargo. "Hey," he greeted the young man, forcing a smile to his face.

Fargo looked around the empty room before sitting down next to him. "You were thinking about him, weren't you?" the scientist asked, adjusting his glasses.

Jack tilted his head, surprised. "Sometimes you get a far away look, and all the worry lightens," Fargo observed. "But the minute you come back, your face gets even sadder."

"Ah," Jack said, not bothering to deny anything. Fargo had seen all the sketches, read the love note Nathan had never sent.

"I'm glad," Fargo said quietly. Jack blinked, looking up at him questioningly. "That you can think of him and stop feeling the pain sometimes."

Jack couldn't answer, the sadness suddenly overwhelming him. His next imagined discussion with Nathan would involve telling him about Fargo. "So," Fargo said abruptly, his tone lightening. "You feeling more solid?"

"All here and interactive again," Jack joked, able to regain control of his emotions with his sense of humor.

"You… ah, said something down in the tunnels," Fargo said, giving him a hopeful look.

Jack searched his mind, but was drawing a blank. "You said if you got out of there you would kiss me," Fargo reminded him in a low tone.

"Oh," Jack said, surprised. He'd been joking mostly, having forgotten the young man's words to him a couple weeks earlier, and now realized he should have paid more attention to the young scientist. "Thought you were working on a crush on my sister," Jack commented, redirecting a little.

"Sure, who wouldn't be?" Fargo replied, shrugging it off easily. "You may not have noticed, but I sort of go through crushes on almost every woman in the town depending on the day of the week."

"You're passing?" Jack asked, a little skeptical.

"No, just really bad at women," Fargo replied. "But I do pretty well when I settle on a guy."

"And you're settling on me, huh?" he asked, lifting a brow. "Because Nathan did?"

"No!" Fargo protested, backtracking as he frantically tried to correct himself. "I mean, his drawings maybe made me look, but no, not because you were his, not…"

Jack had sat up during this, even though he was still very sore when not under what he'd nicknamed his "grow lights". He cupped Fargo's chin gently and kissed him softly, chaste and quick, then lay down again, sighing. "I appreciate what you're doing, Fargo, but you deserve more."

"Yeah, like I can do better than the biggest hero in this town?" Fargo objected, but he still looked awestruck by the kiss.

"You can do better than someone who still imagines conversations and making love to a dead man to feel slightly alive," Jack confessed quietly.

"I can wait," Fargo said, and Jack didn't recognize the confident tone. "I'll see you later, Sheriff."

"Jack," Jack corrected him, sighing. It had taken far too long to force his name from Nathan's lips; he might as well start pushing it with Fargo.

"Okay, Jack," Fargo gave him a smug look that made Jack's heart ache with the reminder of the mentor Fargo had learned it from. "When you start calling me Doug."

Jack smiled to himself as the other man left the room, leaning back and closing his eyes again.

Nathan nipped at Jack's earlobe, sliding his arms sinuously around the sheriff's waist, tangling their legs together, hugging him tightly, bodies wrapped so Jack wasn't sure where he ended and Nathan began. "I'm not quite ready to let you leave yet," Nathan murmured.

"_I have to be at work in an hour," Jack replied, automatically filling in the words from that day. He was snuggling into the embrace though, trying to bind himself to Nathan's skin, stay buried there forever._

"_Call Jo, tell her you'll be late," Nathan coaxed, and this time, Jack ignored the script of actual events._

"_Okay," he agreed, kissing the scientist softly. "But I do need to leave and go find Fargo in a little while."_

_Nathan pulled back, giving him a long look, caressing his face softly. "That I'll let you go for," he agreed, kissing Jack softly. "When you're ready to go."_

"_Not yet," Jack shook his head, pulling Nathan down for a long kiss, wrapping himself in Nathan's warmth and shutting out the world. _

Fargo watched from the doorway, smiling at the bittersweet lightness on the sheriff's face. He put up an arm, barring Lexi's path when she came around the corner. "He just fell asleep," he told her, pointing and settling a hand under her elbow, guiding her away. "So, uh, did you know I once had an impenetrable force field?" he asked her as they walked.


	3. Anger & Bargaining

Title: Unmarked Files: Part 3 – Anger & Bargaining

Pairing: Jack/Nathan, blink and miss it references to the Jack/Fargo arc.

Rating: T, for implied sexual content

Word Count: 1200

Disclaimer: If I owned them, THAT would NOT have happened!

Warnings: slash, canon character death, angst, spoilers through episode 307, little missing scenes from 307. Continuing the tags from 305 and 306. Written for eurekatag challenge over on livejournal.

Summary: The system may not be broken, but for Jack, everything else is falling apart.

* * *

_Jack couldn't conceal his surprise when he opened the door to see Nathan. He was tired, having just managed to shoo the last teenager out and carried Zoë up to bed after the party, which should have been aborted by the crisis at GD but had carried on till Jack's return. Not to mention Nathan never came to the bunker. Jack always came to him._

"_Stark?" he asked quietly. _

"_I needed to tell you something," Nathan said softly, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "And I was hoping for a chance to say goodbye."_

_Jack bowed his head, knowing what was coming. "You're choosing Allison," he murmured. "Ending this… thing we've been doing so you can be with her."_

"_Yeah," Nathan admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm going to ask her to marry me. And you said it yourself last week, Jack. This was just fun, filling the time, right?"_

"_Of course," Jack agreed, even though his heart was shattering. "So I get you for one last night?"_

_Nathan looked up at this, shaking his head. "I have to go now."_

_The dream became lucid. "Wait, this isn't how it happens," Jack objected, reaching out to grab Nathan's arm. "You came in, we made love…" his hand closed into a fist as Nathan's arm dissolved under his touch._

"_See you around, Jack."_

"No!" Jack gasped, and sat bolt upright. He groaned, looking over at the clock, seeing he slept through the alarm. He fell back to the pillows, his whole body shaking slightly, fine tremors of left over terror racking his muscles. He closed his eyes, trying to fall back into the memory. Darkness.

"Dad, you're going to be late for work."

Jack blinked at his daughter from where he was still lying in bed. "I think it may be a sick day," he mumbled, aware that something dark now curled in his chest too tightly and burned angrily.

"Allison called and said she needed to talk to you when you got in, something about the mayoral election," Zoë prodded her dad, frowning when he didn't bother to act excited at the prospect of seeing Allison.

"All right, I'll get up," he reassured her. "I just need a few minutes."

"Are you okay, Dad?" Zoë asked, her voice worried. Jack forced a smile to his face. The campaign had kept Zoë well distracted from his own sadness, which he'd been grateful for. She didn't look convinced, but Zoë left, muttering something about buttons.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, his breath turning ragged when only blackness met his eyes. "Where did you go?" he demanded, angry at his mind not moving into his comforting space. He squeezed his eyes tighter, now fighting tears off with a spike of hot anger. "Dammit, I'm not letting you go yet," he whimpered, and slammed his hand out, sending the glass of water on his bedside table crashing into the wall, shattering.

The sound was apparently contained, as neither Zoë nor Lexi came up the stairs to investigate. "Sheriff Carter—" SARAH started, and Jack sat up, throwing a pillow at the video screen as though it was where the AI resided.

"Just clean it up and don't mention it to anyone," he barked at her, heading for the shower. He used the warm water and time to calm himself, trying to bury his anger so he could face his day.

* * *

He crouched, looking at the glowing outlines of bodies. If he strained hard enough he could imagine the sarcastic comment about playing CSI that Nathan would have made, but he couldn't hear it. He closed his eyes, trying to hear the voice, but instead heard Thorne's voice. His temper, barely managed by funneling it into confronting Thorne, crackled as he walked out of the bunker, and he escaped Allison and Zane quickly, heading down a level to the memorial hall, sliding to one side, out of the public eye.

Deep breaths, trying to regain his temper, and slowly his control filtered back. "Jack? Is everything okay?"

Cracking open an eye, Jack realized he needed Fargo to be as far away as possible from him. He was in the mood to hurt someone, and Fargo was a very easy, very tempting target. "Get out of here," Jack said coldly, closing his eyes.

"Jack, I—" Fargo started, and Jack pulled on every disdainful bit of Nathan he possessed.

"Don't you have a campaign to run?" he said, his voice deadly soft, opening his eyes, knowing they were steely with anger. "Nothing here to help you with that."

Fargo looked him over, nodding when he apparently understood. "Uh, you know where to find me if…" Fargo trailed off, shrugging. He strode away, apparently knowing what was best for himself.

Jack sighed, slowly walking over to the portrait of Nathan, his heart twisting horribly in his chest. "See you around, Jack," he whispered, clenching his fists. "Isn't that what you said? So get the hell back here!" His whispers were fierce and harsh in the silent hall. Unable to stand the silence, he lashed out, breaking the glass over the portrait, a small bleeding cut across his knuckles the only reward he received for his temper.

* * *

"Carter, can we have a moment?"

Jack looked back and forth between Zane and Jo, feeling his emotions twist in a familiar way. He glanced back at Jo, making a snap decision in that moment, that if it came to a choice, he'd make sure Zane got out and stay himself. Because if he stayed…

"Don't do this." Jack nearly jumped at the clarity with which he heard Nathan's voice warning him away from the almost suicidal thought.

If they failed, if his number was up this time then he could…

"Sheriff." The gravel of Nathan's voice was smothered by the sound of Thorne's voice, as was Jack's hopefulness at the momentary clarity of Nathan's scolding. He checked his temper, uncertain why she was still in the building, which he'd ordered evacuated. It seemed she was just as eager to get him out of the town and to safety.

"If you don't die first," Thorne was objecting, and Jack couldn't bring himself to conceal how that idea had some appeal.

"That is part of the job," he told her, his voice flattening a little. His temper simmered under the surface at her words about being left behind, hating how deadly accurate the pain of her statement hit him. He felt some grim satisfaction at ordering Thorne away, then turned his attention to the task at hand.

* * *

He was feeling bad about snapping at Zane, rebuffing what he knew the younger man had been trying to say when he claimed it had been fun. He watched the sun going out, a lump forming in his throat when the fiery beauty collapsed into many swirling wisps of white-hot energy, the pattern reminding him of the artifact drawings he'd seen.

He accepted Zane's handshake, and the scientist gave him a sideways glance. "You've been looking for a moment alone all day," Zane observed knowingly, and Jack blinked, hating how transparent he must be.

"Relax," Zane remarked quietly. "I only know because I was leaving late one night and saw the two of you. I didn't even tell Jo. I'll come find you in the waterfall hall when the buses get back in and we can head to the infirmary."

"Thanks," Jack replied, his anger suddenly deflating. Nothing mattered more in that moment than getting to the hall, finding Nathan again.

He was sprinting by the time he was inside GD, skidding to a stop in front of the portrait. Someone had replaced the glass, and Nathan's solemn image stared out at him. "Please, I'll do anything," he choked out, hardly caring about the words tumbling out of his mouth. "Don't leave me yet."

The hall was silent, save for the echoes of his shuddery gasps to catch his breath, fighting back tears. "Please, Nathan, anything."

He pressed his eyes closed, and a flash of green eyes, sad and fighting tears, and the last words, "See you around, Jack," were all that remained.

He slumped down, his head falling wearily to his hands, not even wincing at the stab of pain in his arm from his burns. His senses began shutting down, letting him float on autopilot through the medical exam and Allison's concern, brushing everyone off.

He smiled, promised to see people the next night when ballots were counted, promised Lexi his endorsement for something about putting Henry on the ballot, made excuses about exhaustion, and managed to make it back to the bunker, crawling into bed before the dam on his emotions broke, and for the first time since the night Nathan died, Jack cried himself to sleep.


	4. Depression & Acceptance

Title:

Title: Unmarked Files: Part 4—Depression & Acceptance

Pairing: Jack/Nathan, Jack/Fargo

Rating: M, for brief sexual content

Word Count: 1400

Disclaimer: If I owned them, THAT would NOT have happened!

Warnings: slash, canon character death, angst, spoilers through episode 307, missing scene from the ending of 307. Written for the eurekatag challenge over on livejournal.

* * *

Jack was aware of Fargo's eyes on him the moment he walked in, and the small spark of life he'd woken up with apparently enough to reassure the younger man that everything was okay between them since he stood and approached the sheriff with a smile.

"Way to go, Sheriff," Fargo said casually, shaking his hand and walking away. Jack watched him go for a moment. Apparently not completely okay, he decided, but he was too tired and sad to go after Fargo.

He pooled his energy into his façade, but he couldn't quite manage a smile as he spoke with Henry. Henry seemed to take it in knowingly though, giving Jack a sympathetic smile and gentle pat on the arm. They turned up to watch Lexi announce the results, and at the shock on his friend's face, Jack managed a real smile.

He was listening with one ear to Lexi rambling about the system, how wonderful politics in Eureka were, and something about a model for change in American politics, when Fargo joined them. "Hey, Doug," Lexi gushed, squeezing the scientist's arm.

"Lexi," he greeted her. "Uh, Sheriff, can I have a minute?"

"Yeah," Jack replied, a little surprised. Lexi smiled and bounced off to congratulate Henry again, and Jack followed Fargo toward the door, and they slipped out, away from the group, walking down the dark, quiet street. "What's up, Fargo?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay, I guess," Fargo replied, looking uncertain.

"Yeah," Jack started to say, but the false note was too much for him. He stopped, leaning against a brick wall, out of sight. Fargo knowingly stepped closer, closing them off from the outside world with his body. "No," Jack admitted. "I'm losing him, and I need time."

"I know," Fargo replied. "But, uh, don't use it to shut me out, okay? Even if you are going through the whole getting angry thing."

"Look," Jack started, irritated that Fargo would presume to understand. He let his shoulders slump in the next moment, remembering that Fargo was mourning, the same as he was. "You didn't need me hurting you more," he informed the younger man. "And trust me, I wanted to hurt someone."

"It's my choice to put myself in the path of that, Jack," he insisted, his voice rising a little with anger. "Please don't shut me out," he repeated, his hand coming up to gently rest on Jack's arm.

Jack slid down the wall, his breath catching as Fargo wrapped his arms tightly around the older man, giving him the comfort Jack hadn't realized he'd needed. "I should have told him," Jack murmured, and to his surprise, Fargo's grip on him tightened.

"He knew," Fargo reassured him, and Jack let himself relax a little more into Fargo's embrace. "You're just not that good a liar, Jack."

Jack managed a little huff, almost a laugh, and Fargo held him, the pair simply sitting quietly in the twilight. "I'm sorry I let the campaign distract me so much," Fargo told Jack, who shook his head.

"You needed something to distract you..."

"I could see you were headed to trouble," Fargo replied quietly. "You'd held on to the denial so long though that I thought I had time before you went all... kablooey."

Jack smiled a little. "Is that the technical term for emotional basket case?" he asked dryly.

"I was trying to avoid calling you a suicidal idiot," Fargo replied pointedly. "Which you've always been, but I thought I had time before you would start thinking about risking your life as a good thing."

"How do you know..." Jack started.

"Thorne," Fargo cut in easily. "Heard her whining about how eager you were to try to save the town and get yourself killed."

"Can't promise I won't keep trying," Jack remarked, the little whisper of what might be waiting on the other side still alluring.

"I know," Fargo replied. "But now I'll be keeping an eye out to stop you. I have a vested interest in keeping you alive, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Jack admitted, sighing. "I should head home."

"Come home with me," Fargo suggested, his tone casual. He made a face when Jack gave him a panicked look. "Look, you shouldn't be alone. And I don't think Dr. Stark would be too happy with me if I didn't offer."

Jack burrowed a little more deeply into Fargo's embrace, relaxing a bit. "Nothing sexual," he remarked, and out of the corner of his eye saw Fargo's face turn bright red, telling him Fargo hadn't intended the offer to be taken as such.

"No, I know you're not interested in that," Fargo replied quickly, and Jack shook his head.

"The destructive bent?" he said, his gaze meeting Fargo's, and he let Fargo see just how much pain was still aching to lash out. "Makes everything destructive, even sex."

"Okay," Fargo breathed, looking concerned, but not loosening his grip.

"Just give me some time," Jack said, bringing his lips to the younger man's in a soft whisper of a kiss. "And don't let me hurt you."

"Okay," Fargo repeated, then stood and helped Jack up. He kept one of his hands linked through Jack's, while the other swept away the tears Jack hadn't realized were dampening his cheeks. "As long as you let me take care of you, just this once."

Jack nodded, quick jerks of his head, and allowed Fargo to lead him away. He was fuzzy on exactly what he told Zoë and Lexi, but half an hour later, wrapped in Fargo's embrace, Jack managed to drift off to a peaceful sleep.

"_Okay," Jack agreed, even though his heart was shattering. "So I get you for one last night?"_

"_One last night," Nathan agreed, stepping inside the door. Jack felt the tension unclench inside him, the dream unfolding properly. Nathan kissed him, the touch so soft and gentle, telling Jack this wasn't going to be one of their usual rough and tumble encounters. Nathan settled his hands along Jack's waist. "Jack," he said, and the tension returned, baffled at the change in the memory again. "One last night. And then you move on."_

_Jack swallowed, allowing the tears he'd been blinking back to slip through his lashes. Nathan leaned in, kissing them each away. "I do love you, Jack Carter," he murmured, his fingers undoing buttons carefully as his kiss turned searching. "But I was sure you didn't feel the same, up until the moment I saw you next to the lava vents. I've made my decision, made a choice I will live with, but if anything ever happened to me, I wanted you to know. I love you."_

_Jack dimly recognized the words from the letter Fargo had found in the unmarked files in Nathan's office. "I'm sorry I never told you," Jack replied, quickly pulling Nathan's T-shirt over his head. "I love you, Nathan."_

"_I know," Nathan replied, giving Jack his usual cocky grin. The quietly crept upstairs, sealing themselves in Jack's bedroom, and Jack made sure to take his time, exploring every tiny bit of Nathan, carefully committing it to memory. Nathan likewise was tender and seemed to be seeking every last moment, every last bit of Jack he could possess. "Love you, love you so much," Jack murmured as he slowly slid inside Nathan, riding the waves of sensations until they both collapsed, sated but still clinging to each other._

_Jack looked up as he regained his breath, gasping again when Nathan's eyes met his, brimming with tears. "I love you, Jack," Nathan replied, but Jack could hear the unspoken words, "See you around, Jack," behind them._

"_I won't come looking for you," Jack told him, and the tears spilled out of the sea green eyes, now filled with relief. _

"_Thank you," Nathan whispered, pressing soft kisses to the tears on Jack's face. "See you around, Jack."_

_"See you around, Nathan," Jack replied, and before his eyes, Nathan's body vanished, a particle at a time._

Jack turned over, and met Fargo's slightly unfocused gaze. "You okay?" Fargo murmured sleepily, his fingers tightening their grip on Jack.

Jack leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "I will be," he replied softly, letting Fargo pull him in tighter. "I will be."


End file.
